I stood, one night, by the old St. Joe,

Where the moonbeams love to loiter;

Watching the ripples come and go

And the willow trees their shadows throw

On the mystic, murm'ring water.

As I lingered there on the vine-clad bank,

Where the pale rays glint and quiver

Through the silvered leaves, a perfumed breeze

So softly swayed the willow trees,

And dappled the laughing river.

The waters murmured so low and sweet,

Then an echo, soft and clear,—

Not the sound of lute or song of bird,

But the sweetest music ever heard,

Fell on my enchanted ear.

The silvered ripples all leaped for joy!

And over the waters glancing

I saw, in the light, a pretty sight;

In an ecstasy of glad delight,

The ripples all were dancing.

They danced in the midst where the stars look down—

No shadowy branch to hide them;

They danced where the willows kiss the stream,

Then back again in the moonlight's gleam,

And the fish peeped out and eyed them.

They danced in the shade of the iron bridge,

Where the aspen's shadows play;

And the great moon smiled as the dancers fled,

And spangles dropped on each little head,

As they laughed and danced away.